


Oh, Brother

by kasiiam



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Multi, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasiiam/pseuds/kasiiam
Summary: Life after Hogwarts isn't exactly what Leta Lestrange expected. With no income from her father, and nobody willing to do business with a Lestrange, she takes up a job at the Ministry of Magic to keep a roof over her head. She's there to work, not to make friends... but what will she do when an unexpected (and forbidden) romance starts to bud?





	1. The First Day

_First day jitters._ It’s a feeling she hasn’t felt in _years_ , not since she left Hogwarts for good. Truth be told, she’s never had them so badly. Yes, at Hogwarts, her peers had all heard of her. They had all heard of the rumours surrounding the Lestrange family name. She’s sure she heard a new one every day… but she was just a _child_.

Leta Lestrange is fully grown now. She’s a witch of many talents, so capable of so many things… So capable that rumours have become more believable than ever. The whispers have become more like white noise now as she’s led to her new office beside that of Torquil Travers. It’s still a mystery to most, including herself, just why the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department would hire a _Lestrange_ as his personal assistant, but so far nobody dared to question his decision.

“Since when does _Leta Lestrange_ work for the Ministry?”

Two wizards stand side-by-side, watching as the young witch settles into her new space. The first one, rather short with enough gel in his hair to lubricate a motor, stares with _disgust_. The second, however, wears an expression that is surprisingly fond.

“I mean, you know that family! They’re _evil!_ ” the short wizard, continues. “Surely her father must be paying somebody handsomely to have her here.”

The second wizard scoffs. “Shut up, Hembrooke,” he laughs, hands slipping casually into the pockets of his suit jacket. “You know, I’ve never met Leta Lestrange before. I’ve heard good things about her.”

“ _Good things?_ Of a _Lestrange?_ Theseus, are you not feeling well?” Eyes wide, Hembrooke glances between his prodigy and their new peer.

“She’s friends with my brother,” Theseus explains. “Now if you’ll excuse me---“

Leta is still unpacking stationary when she hears a knock on her office door. When she glances up, her face remains stoic. “I’m here to _work_ , not make friends,” she states sternly.

Despite that, Theseus still wears a warm smile. “Well, that’s unfortunate. I thought you might be tired of Newt and his shenanigans by now.”

She freezes at the mention of her best friend. How could this stranger know of their friendship? Surely, he’s nearly a _decade_ older than her. She’s never seen him at Hogwarts, and no matter how popular she might be amongst the wizarding community, people talk about much worse things than who she associates herself with.

Eyes narrow slightly as she stares at the other, and then it hits her. Curly auburn locks, freckles mapped over his complexion like constellations… “You must be Theseus,” she says softly. Somehow, she relaxes a bit at this.

“Newt’s told me a lot about you,” the auror states, stepping further into the office as though taking her realization as an invitation.

“Well, he’s told me practically _nothing_ about you.”

Although her words do _sting_ , Theseus can’t pretend he’s surprised. Ever since he had become an auror, his relationship with his brother had been rocky. “What _did_ he tell you?”

Brow raises at the question, and Leta moves to sit in her chair, gesturing for him to take a seat across from her. “That you’re an auror. And that you insisted on singing Christmas Carols for an entire hour three years ago.” He can’t help but interject with a snort before she continues, “What has he told you about me?”

“Well, he doesn’t really shut up about you,” Theseus begins, undeniably amused. Leta, on the other hand, appears unfazed if not defensive. Nonetheless, he approaches her, taking his seat. “He says that you’re good with plants, and you make all these amazing potions. He basically thinks you’re the greatest person in the world, and it appears he wasn’t lying when he said you were incredibly _pretty_.”

The statement should make her blush, but instead, her jaw clenches. Gaze flicks toward a stack of papers before her, fingers shuffling through them as an excuse to avoid eye contact. “And what has your friend had to say about me so far?” She can feel the other auror watching from the hallway, knows already he mustn’t be too crazy about her with the look of terror on his face.

The laugh that leaves Theseus’ chest is almost _overwhelming_ to Leta, but she doesn’t let it show. “Oh, Hembrooke! He definitely thinks you’re wicked. I’d take advantage of that while you can.”

When she glances back toward the other, she notices him scurrying off. Somehow, it brings a subtle smirk to her lips. “Perhaps I should,” she agrees. Finally, she sits back in her seat, summoning a quill. “It’ll have to be later, however. Travers has already given me a nice pile of paperwork to fill out. First day on the job, and one of your peers has lost a _finger_.”

“Yeah, that’d be Danton. Get used to seeing his name in your incident reports,” Theseus grins. There’s hesitation before he does rise to his feet, offering out a hand to the witch. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Leta. Welcome to the Ministry Family.”

“ _Lestrange_.” The name comes out almost _bitter_ , but far more quickly than she can stop herself. After an awkward pause, she rises to take his hand in a firm handshake.

Rather than argue, Theseus offers a nod. “ _Lestrange_.”

“And you as well,” she continues. Though forced, lips spread into a small smile. “I suppose I should thank you for the warm welcome.”

The gratitude seems to perk Theseus’ mood up again, putting that signature grin back on his lips as his hand falls back to his side. “Of course,” he shrugs, backing toward the office door once more. “If you need anything, don’t be a stranger.”

 

*

 

It’s half past noon by the time Leta sees him again. Oddly enough, it’s her failed attempt at _avoiding_ all contact with her new coworkers that seems to catch his attention, has him jogging to catch up with the girl on her way out for some fresh air.

“ _Lestrange!_ Lestrange, wait up!” he calls, catches up with her effortlessly despite her increased pace. When he does, she comes to a halt, letting out a _huff_.

“Can I help you, Scamander?” she urges, brows raised expectantly. “Because I’m currently off the clock, so if you have paperwork, just leave it in my---“

He stops her with a shake of his head. “No, no. I just wanted to see how you’re making out so far,” he smiles. It’s sincere, which almost scares her. “First day in this department can be a bit overwhelming. Is Travers treating you well?”

She wants to roll her eyes, or run in the opposite direction as fast as she can, but that would draw too much attention. Instead, she folds her arms over her chest. “He’s keeping me occupied,” she replies plainly.

Theseus smirks. “Well, that’s good to hear. Say, why don’t you join us for lunch? I know you’re not here to _make friends_ , but---“

“ _Us?_ ” she interrupts. Brows knit in confusion until she spots her, and a leggy blonde skips up to take Theseus’ arms.

“Chenault,” he greets the woman with a kiss to the cheek.

“Schnookums!” Her voice is shrill enough to make Leta cringe, thankfully only on the inside. On the outside, she remains unimpressed. The blonde, however, seems more than happy to join the conversation. “Who’s this? Did the department finally get another maintenance witch?”

Leta almost looks _surprised_ at the other witch’s boldness, eyes widening slightly as if to _challenge_ her. “I’m working directly under Torquil Travers, actually. Is it _you_ I see to place my coffee order?”

The immediate tension has Theseus’ eyes wide and face red, quickly searching for something to say to break the ice. “Chenault, this is Leta Lestrange, Travers’ new assistant. I was just inviting her to eat lunch with us; she’s friends with Newt.”

Chenault almost appears surprised that Leta even _has_ friends, but almost hides it well. “Well, I made reservations at Maureen’s for us to have dinner. You know, to celebrate your promotion!”

“It’s not official yet, love,” Theseus reminds the other, clearly getting flustered. Still, she doesn’t give him much of a choice. “I’m sorry, Lestrange, but I suppose there’s no getting out of this.”

Chenault smirks, pressing a kiss to his cheek with a loud _smack_ which leaves behind a bright pink smudge of lipstick. “Not a chance.”

The auror gives Leta a sheepish grin. “Perhaps another time, then?” he insists.

Leta simply shrugs. “Another time.” Unlikely, but she won’t admit it.

 

After giving Leta a quick pat on the shoulder, Theseus takes his girlfriend’s hand and turns toward the elevator, leaving the young witch to gladly return to her lunch _alone._


	2. An Unlikely Encounter

It's hardly surprising that Leta would be kept late on her first day at her new job. What with the amount of personal paperwork she had to fill out on top of paperwork from the latest auror raid, it was inevitable it would take  _hours_ at the very least. Thankfully, her  _entire_ night isn't wasted away. By the time she gets home, she still has enough time to relax for a bit before bed. She's hardly been curled up with her book for five minutes, however, when a loud  _crack!_ startles her.

She's on her feet in an instant, eyes wide and wand gripped tightly in her hand until she realizes who's standing before her. " _Newt_ ," she breathes, relieved that it's only him. With a sigh, she tosses her wand back onto the couch, arms folded over her chest sternly. "I've told you, you can't just  _apparate in_ whenever you like! What if I wasn't  _decent?_ "

Newt avoids her piercing gaze, setting down a brown bag on the coffee table with an amused grin. "Well, then I'd just  _obliviate_ myself," he jokes. A pause. "We were meant to have dinner, but when I showed up earlier, you weren't home yet."

"Gee, _obliviation_ _,"_   Leta scoffs. "Not sure if that's insulting or  **gentlemanly** of you." But before Newt can start stammering, her expression brightens with a smile. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

He doesn't seem too bothered by the fact, however. It's not the first time either of them has gotten carried away with work and missed dinner. Whether it be Newt with his creatures, or Leta with her potions (and now her job), their plans were never truly solid. Taking the warm bag of food, Leta leads Newt toward the dining room.  _Take out_. It's practically all they eat, given their busy lifestyles, yet it's always Leta's favourite. Quick, easy, and no mess, so they can spend more time hanging out than cleaning and cooking.

"So, how was your first day?" Newt finally asks, taking his usual seat at the table. "Anything interesting happen?"

Leta would rather jab a fork in her eye than go into detail, but of course, Newt is always there for her to vent to. "It was boring," she begins, setting the table. A beat of silence passes before she continues. "I met your brother today."

"You met Theseus?" He seems  _surprised_.

"And his girlfriend."

She avoids his eyes for the most part, busying herself by serving their plates before she takes her seat. Newt, on the other hand, appears to be at a loss for words. Leta has already been made well aware of the complications of his and Theseus' relationship, knows better than to ask about it, but can't help but wonder why exactly they don't keep in touch.

"Ah, yes," Newt finally nods, picking up his fork to poke at the food. "I believe he mentioned he was seeing someone in one of his letters. Did you know she's part  _veela?_ "

She rolls her eyes. "Of course, she is."

Newt's eyes narrow slightly, focusing on the witch. "Am I missing something?"

"No," she shakes her head quickly. "No, it's just--- Chenault. That's her name. She's really...  _something_."

"Leta... you're not... you're not  _jealous_ ,  are you?"

Eyes widen, fork frozen in place as she was about to take a bite. "Newt, why on _E_ _arth_ would I be jealous?" she questions, genuinely dumbfounded.

He simply shrugs. "I'm used to people fancying my brother," he explains nonchalantly, digging into his meal.

Leta frowns. "Well, I  _don't_ , for your information. I just don't like her. She seems a bit  _stuck up_."

"Oh, how  _surprising_. Somebody who's dating an Auror is  _stuck up_."

Neither of them can hold back the laughter that follows, all tension gone out the window. Leta wears a grin as she sits back in her seat, finally  _relaxed_ after the day she's had. It's amazing what dinner with a friend can do to make things better. With small talk aside, they tuck in, choosing to finish their meal rather than pick at it between complaints about work and life in general. By the time they've finished eating and catching up over their weekend apart, the moon is high. Although she won't admit it, Leta doesn't want her best friend to leave.

"Well, I have an early morning ahead of me..." she sighs, a wave of the wand sending empty take away containers floating toward the rubbish bin. "And I'm sure your creatures are waiting for you."

A sad smile turns up the corner of Newt's mouth, and after a second of hesitation, he rises from his seat. "Of course," he nods, pulling on his coat. "It's good to see you, Leta. As always."

"Shall we do this again this week? Perhaps once I've settled into the office and don't have to stay late," she smiles.

"How about lunch, Saturday? No work means you'll be less likely to be late," he teases.

A full laugh rings the air. "Saturday it is. Just don't you be late, either."

"I promise." With that, Newt approaches her. In an awkward moment, his hand reaches up to brush the hair from her eyes before quickly dropping back to his side.  _Affection_ has never exactly been either of their strong suits, and hugging is no exception to that. "I'll see you then."

 

*

 

 The next morning is a  _whirlwind_ of chaos. During the night, Grindelwald's followers had managed to wipe out half a muggle village not far from London, seemingly without reason, but the aurors are convinced there's much more to it than that. Leta, on the other hand, must deal with the aftermath. As if her new pile of files aren't enough, she's had to deal with many more reporters than she's comfortable with, all asking her the same question: What exactly happened in Rawley Hill last night? What's worse, many also seemed to be curious as to why  _Leta Lestrange_ is suddenly working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement when her father is so clearly involved with the Dark Arts.

Somehow, today is worse than the day previous. Even more of her peers are staring,  _glaring_ , even, as she makes her way back to her own office from a press conference. People have been whispering all morning about how it's such a coincidence that something so  _terrible_   would happen the same day that a Lestrange become affiliated with the Ministry. She keeps her head down, however, doing her best to avoid any confrontation. Relief washes over her when she finally reaches her office, shutting the door behind her quickly, and taking a moment with eyes closed to catch her breath. It's not until she hears a sharp ' _ahem_ ' that she realizes she's not alone.

Gaze darts up to find none other than  _Chenault_ stood in front of her desk, arms folded over her chest expectantly. Her heart is hammering in her chest, not expecting the sudden encounter, and she straightens up immediately. "Can I help you?" Leta asks calmly, regaining her composure with ease as she strides toward the desk. She steps behind it, standing her ground. This is  _her_ office, after all.

"Yes," the woman nods, turning to face the other with a cold gaze. "Stay away from Theseus."

Leta can only stare for a moment with brows knit, confused at the sudden reaction. _"... Excuse me?"_

"Are you  _deaf?"_ she snaps. "I said  _stay away_ from my fiancé. He's got no interest in  _dark scum_ like yourself."

The words  _sting_ , but Leta isn't about to show vulnerability. She's learned by now that it's the quickest way to getting herself hurt, and now that she's not a  _school girl_ anymore, she'll be faced with consequences for her actions should she decide to lash out. Instead, her jaw clenches, corner of her lips twitching as she runs all the things she wants to say through a filter. After a few seconds of silence, she finally responds.

"I can assure you I have no interest in your...  _fiancé..._ " Eyes flicker toward her ring finger. No ring. Of course. "I'm only here to work."

The blonde scoffs. "By work do you mean  _infiltrate the Ministry?_ I know your type, Lestrange. And you're being closely watched, so I would tread carefully."

"By work I mean  _work_. Which, if you don't mind, I would like to return to if you're finished throwing your little tantrum."

Chenault takes a step closer, leaning over the desk so that her face is only inches from Leta's. The look in her eyes is  _murderous_ , a temper within that Leta isn't about to provoke. "Stay. Away. From Theseus." Her voice is low,  _threatening_. "If you step one toe out of line, I can assure you, Grindelwald will be the least of your worries."

Leta is left speechless as the witch steps back with a wicked smirk, turning to leave the office seemingly satisfied. The door slams behind her, causing Leta to jump slightly before taking her seat.  _Great_. As if she doesn't have enough to worry about as it is. She takes a few deep breaths, calming herself before her gaze falls upon the stack of files on her desk. A simple flick of the wand has them sorting themselves while she stares numbly. Mind is only snapped back to reality when she catches glace of a name, heart nearly stopping altoghether as she sits up straight.

 

 

**LESTRANGE, CORVUS IV**

 

She glances toward the door before quickly shuffling through the files, digging out the one that had captured her attention. Shaking hands hesitate a moment before opening the folder. There are photographs inside, of Corvus, meeting with other dark wizards, each suspected supporters of Grindelwald. Surely the file had been given to her by mistake... Is she really allowed to be handling files of people she's related to? Breathing picks up, chest heaving with panic as she flicks through page after page, every record of every terrible thing her father has done, the vast majority of which he'd paid officials to keep off the records... Yet somehow, they're here. With this information, he could be sent to Azkaban...  _for good_. With this information, Leta could be   **FREE**   of him at last... But yet, the evidence suggests so much more. On one hand, if she shows this evidence to the Head of the Auror department, her father will be punished for good. She'll be a traitor, but she'll be free. On the other, this will put a target on her back. Every pureblood witch or wizard of the Sacred Twenty-Eight will be aware of what she's done, and many will want her dead for it. It's a tough call, but an obvious choice. Without a second thought, she rushes to the door once again, feet carrying her quickly toward the Auror department. She keeps her head down, avoiding the glares of those around her until she hits something---  _someone_ , and stumbles back.

" _Watch it,_ " she snaps, makes to continue on her way, but the obstacle grabs her by the shoulders.

_"Lestrange."_

Head tilts up to find herself face-to-face with Theseus Scamander once again.  _Of course._

"Lestrange, what's the rush? Are you alright?" The concern in his eyes seems genuine, enough that Leta almost feels  _sick_.

"I can't--- _I'm busy_ , okay? Leave me be," she mutters, shrugging his hands off of her. He catches her wrist as she tries to move past him, however, and she spins around with a glare. "I said,  _leave me be._ "

Dark brows furrow in lack of understanding at her sudden attitude, but he lets go of her wrist. "Leta, did something happen?"

She ignores the question. "I have to go. I think your  _fiancée_ is looking for you."

"Fianc--  _Fiancée?!"_ he repeats, but by the time he can set his confusion aside, Leta is long gone.

 Hand raises to knock on the door of the Head Auror's office, but she finds herself face to face with Chenault once again as it opens. Heart rate picks up once again, grip tightening around the file in her hands as she takes a step back. "I'm here to see Norrington," she says flatly. The comment only earns her a roll of green eyes.

"Of course you are," she witch grumbles,  _pushes_ past the younger one to leave.

Leta takes a deep breath before glancing back into the office, finding Norrington sat at his desk with a welcoming smile on his lips. "Miss Lestrange, do come in."

After a second of hesitance, she enters the office, shutting the door behind her. "I...  _found something_. I think you should see it," she begins, slowly taking a seat in one of the chairs before his desk.

Norrington's gaze settles on the file in her hands, held closely to her chest. "You found your father's file."

A pause. "It's... It's more than that, I'm afraid..." She reaches out, sliding the file toward him over the desk. "Most of these crimes, he got away with. I believe it's enough to suggest his affiliation with Grindelwald, and---"

"And you want him locked up."

Leta stares at the man for a second, trying her hardest to read him. She watches as he picks up the file, flicking through it with intrigue. "Miss Lestrange, this... This is  _a lot_... Where did you find this?"

"It was placed on my desk, in a pile of other folders," she explains. "As far as I know, he'd always paid people off to keep this information buried. I don't think this evidence was ever meant to be found."

There's a moment of silence as the auror studies the girl. She studies him in return, both seemingly lost in thought as they try their best to comprehend the situation, decide on the best course of action to follow suit. His gaze lingers a second longer before returning to the file, gears shifting in his mind as he develops a plan.

"Miss Lestrange, I take it your relationship with your father isn't exactly...  _close?"_ he questions.

Eyes narrow as she watches him, wondering where exactly he's going with this. "No, not exactly..."

" _Hm_. Interesting." A deep breath, and he sets the file back on his desk. "Would it be unreasonable to say the people your father has been meeting with might believe you want in on Grindelwald's plan?"

There it is. Of course, everybody believes she's in on his plan already. It only makes sense that other Dark wizards would agree. "What are you getting at, Norrington?"

He gives a crooked smile. "I'm saying, you may be the key to getting more information on Grindelwald's plan," he reveals calmly. "And if they welcome you with open arms, we may be able to get some leads. And those leads may give us the information we need to take him down."

Her head is practically  _spinning_ at the implication, heart pounding a mile a minute. "Are you saying you want me to join Grindelwald?"

"Not necessarily," he says quickly, shaking his head. "No. I want you to be a  _double agent_. I think you have a lot of potential. What do you say?"

She doesn't know  _what_ to say. It sounds like a terrible idea, but at the same time, she can see where he's coming from. If she does this, she may be able to gain Grindelwald's trust personally, learn exactly how to take him down. She takes a deep breath. "I... This is a big decision, Norrington..."

"Of course, it is. The entire Grindelwald operation is depending on it."

After a long pause, she nods. "Okay. What if I say yes? Will I be protected?" It sounds  _selfish_ ,  _fearsome_ , but she needs to be sure. Although she won't confess that the idea  _terrifies_ her, she at least needs to be assured that she'll come home safely, be able to promise Newt her safe return should he find out about the situation.

Norrington smiles, hands coming together as his elbows rest on the desk. "Of course, Miss Lestrange. We would have eyes on you at all times. Should you ever feel as though you're in danger, you'll be removed from the situation immediately."

She can't tell if it's an empty promise, or the truth. Still, there's a voice in the back of her head saying that she has to do this. That she  _owes_ it to the Wizarding World after all of the horrible things her father has done. After all, what kind of person would she be if she refused to take the  _only_ opportunity that may lead to the defeat of Gellart Grindelwald? Swallowing the lump in her throat, she sits up straighter, eyes meeting her superior's. "Okay, then," she says firmly. "I'll do it."

Norrington's smile spreads at her decision. "Good. Let's keep this little arrangement between us for now, alright?" He reaches out a hand. When it finds hers, he gives her a firm handshake. "Welcome to the resistance, Miss Lestrange."


	3. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Leta takes on a dangerous task, complications arise, making her second-guess her decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: NSFW themes will occur in this chapter.

The next few days are spent quietly preparing for her upcoming mission. As requested, she's kept their plan a secret from the rest of the Ministry--- who knows what kind of unwelcome ears may be listening. However, as preparations become final, Leta's stomach is in flips. The more she looks over the plans, the less likely she believes she'll be coming home... but if it means the end of Grindelwald, will it not be worth something? It's a thought that's been running through her mind constantly, keeping her awake at night and slowing her progress on paperwork. It's only when she wakes up Saturday morning, for what might be her last chance to spend time with her best friend, that she comes to terms with it.

He's late, as expected. When he arrives in Leta's living room, she's already sat at the dining room table, lunch served, waiting for him. It's no surprise when he enters with a bandage on his hand and a sheepish grin on his face that he'd be injured once again. The witch can only offer a soft sigh, pushing out the chair adjacent from hers for him to sit down. "What have you done now?" she questions, reaching out to take his injured hand.

"Oh, no, it's nothing," Newt insists, taking his seat. There's no stopping her from taking his hand to examine, though. "Just a small bite, is all. The Kelpie is having a hard time adjusting."

A small frown turns down the corners of her lips, and she decides against unraveling the bandage. "I told you to be careful with her," she murmurs sternly.

Newt simply laughs. "Leta, I'm  _always_ careful with the creatures. You know that."

She shakes her head, amusement softening her features, allowing her to let her guard down for the first time in nearly a week. The small talk is  _comforting_ _,_ exactly what she's been looking forward to, but she knows that the hard part is yet to come. Leta will have to tell him at some point. Soon. All she needs is to wait for the right moment, and it comes far too soon. As they clear the table, enchanted dishes making their way to the sink, he finally asks, "How has work been?"

Her stomach sinks at the question, knowing that if she doesn't explain it to him now, she may never get another chance. "Well, things are getting a tad difficult."

There's a frown on her lips, and Newt is quick to notice her unease.

"Is everything okay?"

A sigh leaves her chest, and she pauses in her strides toward the living room. "Yes, it's just..." Lips purse for a second before she continues. "I may have to go away for a while."

"I'm sorry, did you just say you're  _leaving?"_ He's at her side in an instant, gloom washing over his face. "Leta, what's going on?"

She rubs a hand over her face, already feeling regret that she'd said anything at all. It's only expected that he'd worry like this, and it's the main reason she hesitated against even telling him at all. "They want me to join Grindelwald---"

" _What?!"_

"No, it's not what you think!" she interjects, turning to face him with a hand reaching out to him reassuringly. "They want me to go in and gain intel. His supporters would  _trust_ me. Norrington thinks if I do this we'll be able to find out how to take down Grindelwald."

Newt watches her for a second, as though waiting for her to tell him it's all a joke. When she doesn't, he laughs anyway,  _bitter_ , and shakes his head. "No."

Leta furrows her brows. "Excuse me?"

" _No_ ," Newt repeats, stepping toward her. "No, you're not doing that.  _You could be **killed** , Leta._"

"I'm very well aware!" she snaps, arms folding over her chest defensively.

"Then why are you doing this? Why would you do something so  _stupid?!"_  

He's never raised her voice at her like this, let alone ever called her  _stupid_. Hands ball into fists, nails digging into her palms as she faces him. "What kind of person would I be if I  _didn't_ , Newt?! What kind of person would I be if I refuse to do this, and Grindelwald hurts more people?!"

"You'd be  _safe!"_  He argues. His chest is heaving, overwhelmed at the thought of losing her. Shaking his head, he turns away from her, trying to wreck his brain for anything he can say to make her stay. "Leta,  _I can't lose you_."

Tears well up in her eyes, a lump forming in her throat, and she tries her best to swallow it back. " _I have to_ ," she croaks, bottom lip quivering.

Newt shakes his head, hands reaching out for hers without hesitance. "Leta, you  _don't_. If you're doing this to redeem yourself, you--- you don't have to do this. It won't make you a better person, it'll only make you  _dead_ , do you hear me?"

A small part of her wants to pull her hands away, tell him to leave her, that she has no choice, but the contact undeniably brings her  _comfort_. Gaze cast downward, she avoids his eyes. "It's not about that, Newt..."

There's a brief pause, and Newt's eyes soften. He hasn't seen her this vulnerable since she last opened up about... "It's your father, isn't it?"

She doesn't respond right away. Instead, she grips his hands tighter, allowing her eyes to drift shut. "He's involved, yes."

"... You don't have to do this, Leta," he speaks gently. There's little hesitance before his hand raises to cup her cheek, wanting nothing more than to offer her comfort.

"You don't understand," she whispers. Slowly, she reaches up, resting her hand over his. "All of this could be over soon... I'd be  _free_ of him..."

"You already  _can_ be," Newt insists, tilting her chin up to look at him. "You don't  _ever_ have to face him again, Leta. No matter what, I'll keep you safe from him."

She shakes her head, pulling away. "No, Newt,  _you don't understand._ They'll protect me, the aurors... But I need to get on my father's good side if I want to get in with Grindelwald. I promise you, though, I'll be  _safe_." It's a promise she's not sure she can keep, but it's enough to quiet Newt for a moment. In the silence, she allows her eyes to meet his, their gaze filled with so much more than they're willing to say.

Before she realizes what's happening, Newt approaches, arms snaking around her torso to pull her flush against him, lips claiming hers in a vehement kiss. Affection has never been much of their thing, but this is so much different. A warm feeling washes over her as her lips mingle with his, fingers curling into auburn locks as she holds him close. When they finally break the kiss, both are breathless, staring at each other in a loss for words. It's Newt who speaks first, voice barely above a whisper.

" _Stay with me_."

She can feel her heart pounding in her chest so hard she fears it might escape. " _I can't_..." she whispers, eyes sparkling with tears.

Newt silences her with another kiss before speaking again. "Then stay with me tonight."

Their lips meet again,  _hungry_ for more, hands grasping desperately at the fabric on each others' backs. All that follows next is instinct, a result of pure  _desire_. Newt quickly backs Leta against the wall, hands reaching downward to latch onto the backs of her thighs. She gasps against his mouth as he lifts her up, knees hooked over his hips to secure herself when he moves again. It all happens so quickly. One moment, his lips are on her neck, and the next, they're stumbling down the hallway toward her bedroom, shedding layers along the way. He drops her onto the bed when they arrive, pulls back for a moment as he hovers over her, short of breath.

" _I love you, Leta_ ," he breathes, green eyes pouring into brown. She wants to  _cry_ at the confession, one she knows for certain she's never heard once in her life. It feels like her heart is exploding in her chest, and as tears slide down her cheeks, Newt quickly pulls away. "Oh, no... I-I'm so sorry, Leta," he stammers, but she shushes him quickly.

Sitting up, she reaches for him once more, hand taking the back of his neck to pull him in for another long kiss. " _I love you_ ," she murmurs.

Slowly, his hands come back up to her waist, pulling her with him as he settles back into the bed. Her knees plant themselves on either side of his hips as his hands roam up her back, delicate fingers tugging undone the clasp of her bra. A shiver runs up her spine at his touch. Had she known the feel of his skin against hers would be so  _blissful_ , she's sure they'd have done this long ago. She feels a tingle in her chest as he plants soft kisses along her neck, moving carefully down to nip at her collarbone. Hips move against his, quiet moans escaping her throat as his teeth graze over delicate skin.

" _Newt_ ," she breathes, head tilting back in satisfaction. Before she knows it, she's wiggling out of her panties, eager for more as his hands roam lower.

His hand runs over her leg, tugging lace away and tossing it aside before fingers slip underneath her. His heart hammers against her chest as his arm slips around her back, tugging her close. Gentle fingers finally make their way between her thighs, dipping into her soaking folds. The hitching of her breath is enough to encourage him, lips suckling over her skin as his thumb finds her bundle of nerves, swollen,  _throbbing_. Her fingers tug at his hair, a begging whimper leaving her lips as she squirms against him. Soon his index finger buries itself in her warmth, thumb rubbing over erect bud as he basks in her glorious song.

" _Please_ ," she begs, his alert member pressed against the inside of her thigh. Hands cup the sides of his face, pulling him into a ferverous kiss as she grinds into his touch. " _Please..."_

Her begging is enough to drive him wild, a moan leaving his lips as he removes his hand from her warmth. In an instant, he's rubbing the tip of his manhood over her clit,  _teasing_ , until he pushes up against her entrance. She's had enough of his teasing, however. Without hesitation, she pushes down, taking in his length with combined moans. Hands rest against his chest as she thrusts against him, nails digging into skin as she pushes him back.

" _Leta_ \---" he groans. Hands grip at her thighs, hips grinding up against her as he lays back. He can feel sweat beading behind his knees, head tilting back as Leta writhes with pleasure. It's a rhythm he never wants to end, a show he could watch forever.

It's  _hours_ and several rounds later before they're finished, tangled together in a mess of blankets. There's a  _giddiness_ that settles over them, has them grinning from ear to ear as Newt brushes his fingers over Leta's bare back. Her head rests on his shoulder, hair damp with sweat.

" _That was nice_ ," she murmurs, stifling a giggle with a kiss to his neck.

Newt, on the other hand, has no shame in the laughter he huffs. " _Nice_ ," he repeats. He leans down to press a kiss atop her head, sighing with content. "Not nice enough to stay, though?"

She frowns. "Let's talk about something else now. Please." There's an uneasy pause before she speaks again. "Since when do you love me?"

"Fifth year." His answer is much quicker than expected. "When we climbed to the top of that tree."

"I broke my arm," she snorts, amused at the memory.

" _Twice_ ," he reminds her. "But both times you still climbed again the next day. And when we reached the top... You were so beautiful."

A brow raises as she looks up at him. " _Were?"_

" _Are_ ," he replies through laughter. Fingers tilt her chin up gently to capture her lips in a soft kiss. "You're always beautiful. I think that's the first time I had ever seen you truly happy."

Eyes drift shut as Leta settles her head back into the crook of his neck, smile curling up the corners of her lips. She can't count how many times she's wondered how she's so lucky to have Newt in her life, but she'll add this moment to that list. "Sixth year," she says quietly, arm slinking lazily over his torso. "When you showed me the Bowtruckle tree." No matter what the occasion, Newt was always able to find a way to make Leta smile. He's the only person she's ever known to even  _try_.

A comforting silence fills the air. For once, there are no more words to say, and they wouldn't have it any other way. For now, it's Leta's little paradise before the storm. But as much as she wants to save it for later, she knows it needs to be said now.

"I can't stay," she finally murmurs, frown on her lips. Newt heaves a sigh, fingers combing through tousled hair.

"I understand."


	4. The Rally

A weekend spent with Newt had somehow worked  _wonders_ at relieving Leta's stress for her upcoming mission. So much so that when she returns to the office Monday morning, she even flashes Chenault a  _smile_ as she makes her way through the Auror department. Pettiness aside, the upcoming meeting is sure to snap her back to the grave reality of her situation. Tonight, Leta will be joining Grindelwald's forces. For all she knows, she'll be walking into her death. It's a reality that she's quickly come to terms with, though her new relationship does complicate things....

Knuckles rap on the door of the Head Auror's office, head held high as she readies herself mentally for what's to come. The door opens quickly. Norrington looks  _worried_ , urges her inside with haste and all but slams the door shut behind her as she moves toward her usual seat. She's stopped, however, before she can seat herself.

"There's been a change in plans," he informs, beads of sweat dripping from a greasy receiding hairline.

Leta's brows furrow. "What do you mean, a change in plans? Tell me what's happened."

He looks  _panicked_ , a realization that has Leta's stomach drop. "There will be a  **RALLY** today.  _Soon_. You're going," he stammers.

_"A rally?"_

Leta freezes in her tracks, staring in bewilderment at the Auror as he shuffles through a large stack of files. Surely, he can't be serious... She's not  _trained_ , and everybody knows the kinds of monstrosities that are rumoured to go on at these rallies. It's not until a dry lump forms in her throat that she realizes she's been holding her breath, inhales deeply in a strained effort to calm herself. "Will I be alone?"

"I'm afraid so, but worry not! We'll be keeping an eye on you. With the pensieve, of course. Just need a strand of your hair---" Which is plucked from her head without warning, causing her to jump. "If there's so much as a wand pointed near you, you're to  _disapparate_ immediately. Is that understood, MIss Lestrange?"

"You speak as though this is all happening _right now_ ," she worries, frown on her lips.

The look in Norrington's eyes is enough to confirm her fears. For the first time since she's entered, his eyes train on her, poorly hiding a hint of  _sorrow_. "I'm afraid it  _is_ , my dear."

Eyes widen at the revelation, jaw clenched as she tries her best to ground herself.  _She's going to a rally_. There's no getting out of it now, especially not with Norrington shuffling around his office busily, making the proper arrangements before he sends her off. Once everything is in its place, he waves his wand over a small object;  _a quill_ , which floats before Leta. She reaches out to take it, but he smacks her hand away before she can.

" _Not yet!"_ he snaps, approaching her with urgence. "This is a Portkey. It's going to take you to the rally, which is taking place in Berlin in ten minutes. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask."

There are more questions racing through her mind than she knows how to sort.  _Who will be there? How long will it take? Will she be coming back after this?_ But before she can get a word out, Norrington takes out his pocket watch, eyes widening. "I'm sorry, Miss Lestrange, but it appears we're out of time."

And with that, the quill is thrust into her hands, an unanticipated force tugging at her navel, pulling her through a whirlwind of magic. Her feet hit the ground almost immediately, giving her no time to process what had just happened before she's facing the entrance to a large, marble mausoleum. There's a heaviness as she pushes open the oak door, stepping slowly into the darkness within. She's not alone, she realizes, as she catches a glimpse at the tail end of a green cloak rounding a corner toward the end of the tomb. Wand is gripped tightly in her fist as she treads through the dimly-lit room, eyes scanning placquards along the way.

**RUFUS WAGNER, 1681-1820.**

**MARY WAGNER, 1684-1794.**

The names go on, a sick feeling settling into her stomach until she rounds the corner, finding one that isn't quite complete.

**ANTON WAGNER, 1877-**

A quiet buzz comes from within. This must be it. Eyes search stone for some sort of entrance, hands feeling the wall around for a switch of some sorts. Just when things can't get any worse, she hears footsteps approaching. As they round the corner into the tomb she occupies, she holds her wand at the ready, heart hammering in her chest. She'd been prepared for just about  _anybody_ to walk into view at this point, but never this. Never  _him_. Eyes meet, ones that have haunted her for her entire life, and that still haunt her now. There's a moment of silence, tension hanging sharp in the air between them until she lowers her wand. It's an unlikely reunion that she had been hoping she would never have to face.

" _Papa_ _._ "

Her voice is quiet, but strong. He's caused the witch nothing but  _pain_ her entire life. She won't let him do it anymore. The man simply stares at her for a second with disapproving eyes, as though debating on whether or not he should say something. A loud roar on the other side of the tomb seems to make up his mind. Without so much as a word to his daughter, he taps his wand against the placquard. Stone grates loudly against the ground as a large rectangle moves forward, then to the side, revealing long tunnel within. Leta watches speechlessly as her father enters, casting one last glance into the crypt behind her before she follows.

The tunnel leads into a large stadium, nothing like anything she's ever seen. There are witches and wizards everywhere,  _hundreds_ of them, leaving only standing room for those who are just coming in. Grindelwald is already putting on his show as the Lestranges find their place in the crowd, far enough away that they won't have to speak to one another but still close enough to keep an eye on. While similar to her expectations in that the entire rally is but a  _show of power_ on Grindelwald's part, Leta can't deny that she's  _surprised_ at the events that take place. She'd been expecting far more bloodshed, violence,  _horrors_... but the Dark Wizard remains all too human. He speaks of things anybody would desire. Freedom. Peace. Power. But Leta has heard it all before. Eyes flicker back to the man stood not far from her, recalling all of the promises he'd broken. How is this any different?

The crowd comes to a calm silence as Grindelwald finally speaks, eyes scanning over every last member of his audience. A dramatic pause. " _Welcome_ ," he speaks, his tone both powerful and strangely soothing. "As you all may have heard... Our magical governments appear to be  _slandering_ us with nonsensical stories of  _violence_ and  _prejudice_..." A roar of discontent from the crowd, furious at the alleged lies. "Do not let them fool you. This alliance...  _Our_ alliance... Has been formed to end the unnecessary spread of hatred, and segregation in the Wizarding Community." The stadium is silent enough that you could hear a pin drop, the audience hanging onto his every word. It's at this point that Leta has to wonder if they're really brainwashed at all. After all, the words that their leader speaks are spoken with such seduction and promise that even  _she_ wants to believe them... She wants to, but knows she mustn't. "Let it be known, my friends, that our time will come. A time where we will no longer have to  _hide_ from the non-magiques... When we will all be allowed to live  _freely_ , raise our families outside of the darkness behind which we've been hidden far too long..." Finally, his eyes find Leta's in the crowd, a wicked sort of smile forming on his lips. "After all, is family not the most important thing?"

Leta freezes in place, no matter how much her mind is screaming at her to run while she can. No matter how hard she tries, her feet remain rooted to the spot. She scans the crowd, finding that nobody appears to have followed their leader's gaze, however brief it had been. It's when she finally  _does_ find the will to move that he chooses to speak again, while she slowly turns toward the door.

"... It's wonderful to see so many new faces here today... Even moreso to see our cause bringing families together, such as the Lestranges."

Feet come to a halt.

"Corvus Lestrange, you've been a loyal member from the very beginning... Can it be that you've finally convinced your dear daughter to join us today?"

Suddenly, all eyes are on the two. Leta is forced to turn around, face the two men she fears most of all; her father, who looks back at her with such  _distaste..._ and Gellert Grindelwald, wearing quite the opposite. He reaches out in her direction, a sinister fondness creeping over his expression.

"Miss Lestrange... We've been waiting for you," he speaks, beckoning her. "Come. Come, my dear..."

Hands ball into anxious fists as she takes a step forward, knowing that if she leaves now, her cover will be blown. Although it's the last thing she wants to do, she wills herself to pass through the crowd, approach the Wizard on the stage. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, she takes his hand. Her presence is welcomed with a deafnening wave of cheers and heckles, overwhelming to say the least, but she keeps her eyes on a blank space in the distance as her fist is thrust into the air by her new companion.

" _Leta Lestrange!"_ he shouts, seemingly thrilled to introduce her to the wild crowd. "So  _unloved_ , but so  _brave..._ Tell me, dear, what is it you seek here tonight? Justification? Redemption? _Kinship?"_

She doesn't know what to say. Does she say anything at all? Mouth drops open as if to reply, but she has no words. Rather, the corner of her lips twitch at his final word, seemingly giving her answer away.

"Kinship..." he speaks again, arm wrapping itself over her shoulders in a dramatic show of  _comfort_. "You seek  _family_... Well, Leta, if it is family you seek, it is family you shall receive. You, my girl, will be a part of  _our_ family. Is that not exactly why this alliance has been formed in the first place? To offer  _solace_ for those in need? Don't you all agree?"

A violent wave of approval comes from the masses as Leta watches, tension filling every bone in her body as the dark wizard holds her close. It can't be over fast enough.

 

*

 

Meanwhile, the pensieve in Norrington's office is filled with images of the rally, showing him every detail of the events taking place. He can only stare in disbelief, awestruck that the plan is going so much better than expected. Chenault, on the other hand, watches with abbhorance that things aren't moving along as quickly as she had hoped.

"Of course, he  _loves_ her," she snaps, turning away from the bowl with nose scrunched. She paces the office, wanting nothing more than for this to all end. "I thought she'd have tried to  _kill_ him by now, or  _something_."

Norrington shakes his head, raising a hand to silence her. " _Patience_ , detective... We must have patience. If things keep moving at this rate, both Corvus Lestrange  _and_ Gellert Grindelwald will be dead or incarcerated by morning."

 " _No,"_ she snaps, shooting a fierce glare at the man. "No,  _we made a deal_. I plant the file, and Corvus Lestrange  **DIES.** Incarceration isn't good enough!"

"And what makes you think he won't be sentenced to death for his crimes?"

There's a beat of tense quiet until a knock on the door startles them both, Norrington accidentally spilling the pensieve onto the floor. " _Don't come in!"_ he shouts, but it's too late. Water from the pensieve puddles onto the floor, still showing Leta's face as the door bursts open. The auror doesn't seem to notice right yet, however, as he holds out a file, and they look up immediately to find none other than Theseus Scamander standing in their midst.

"Norrington, have you seen---  _Chenault?_ What's going on?" It doesn't take long for his gaze to find the problem, panic striking him as he sees the pensieve cracked on the ground and a familiar face in its contents. " _You haven't_..."

"Sweetie, we tried to stop her!" the blonde cries, desperately reaching out to take her lover's arm, but he shrugs it off.

"Norrington, you sent _a civilian_  in there?!" Blood boils, hands balled into fists as he takes a stride toward his superior. "She's  _untrained_ , you idiot! She could get  _killed!"_

The Head Auror holds his hands up as though trying to show he is no threat. "Theseus, this was a decision she made on her own! She was beyond  _willing!"_ he argues. With the look of  _rage_ on Theseus' face, there's no way he'll be getting out of it.

"Where is the rally, Norrington? We're sending in an extraction team."

 

 


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic Depictions of Violence will occur in this chapter.

Every moment that passes in Grindelwald's presence feels like an eternity. Eyes have already scanned her surroundings thrice, searching desperately for an escape, but Leta's luck appears to have run out. With a cold hand clutching her shoulder, there's only so much she can do without raising alarm---  _apparition_ doesn't appear to be one of those things. The last thing she needs is to be splinched trying to disapparate, or even take him with her and risk putting more people in danger. No, this is something she'll have to wait out. At least until his hold on her is released.

It doesn't take much longer for her to find a window. Leta has been on the stage hardly six minutes before a loud crash sounds from the tunnel entrance. A long beat of stillness. Suddenly, wizards in dark business attire begin flooding into the stadium, causing many rally-goers to disapparate on the spot. The rally descends into utter chaos as people announce the arrival of Aurors. Hexes and curses are thrown around without much care  _who_ they hit, some witches and wizards falling to the ground, magically bound, while others either decide to fight back or make their escape. With a distracted Grindelwald having finally let go of her, Leta is about to make hers, until she sees a familiar face in the crowd.

_"Theseus!"_   she calls out, barreling toward his direction.

She manages to push past most of the crowd, slipping between bodies with ease. A hand reaches out to him, and by the time he notices her presence, a someone's grasp latches aggressively around her bicep. A flash of green blinds her momentarily. When she blinks, Leta finds herself unexpectedly in a different setting. It's too familiar. Her stomach turns. The grip on her arm doesn't let go, rather yanks her back, the force throwing her harshly to the ground. The witch lands on hands and knees with a grunt, hastily scatters away, reaching for her wand before it's torn from her grasp with a simple flick of the wand from her attacker. Then she finally glances up, shaky breaths the only sound filling the room.  _Her_ room.  _Home_.

" _You_ ," growls Corvus, a look on his face more terrifying than she'd even known he was capable of. "You insolent little brat!" Another wave of the wand sends Leta flying backward into a wall, slamming her head on the trim. "You, and your shiny new job at the  _Ministry of Magic!_ You think for a second I don't know it was  _you_ who sent those blasted Aurors?!"

She spots her wand across the floor, pushes herself to her feet in a last-ditch effort and  _runs_ for it. It's hopeless. She barely makes it three feet before being hit with a  _Cruciatus Curse_ that has her collapse upon the ground, writhing and screaming in pain. Just when she thinks the worst is done, Corvus leans over her, fist balling around her collar to yank her upward, forcing her to face him.

"You think Gellert Grindelwald loves you  _so much_ \---" he snarls.

Leta scoffs. " _More than you can say!"_

The comment earns her a backhanded slap before his hand comes to grip her chin violently,  _daring_ her to speak out again.

"Well, once he knows of your little  _kinship_ with the Auror Department, I'm sure he'll love you even more.

Dark eyes meet, and for a moment, he seems to contemplate whether this is even worth his time. A few seconds pass before he makes up his mind, throws his daughter back onto the marble floor. He begins to walk away, nearly at the door when he hears her scuffling again, knowing full well there's not much distance between she and her wand. Her shout gives it away. Of course, his own daughter would disappoint him by being incapable of performing a killing curse non-verbally. The elder blocks the spell with  _ease_ , even behind his back, leaving Leta panicking as she backs away. She throws another spell his way, and another, but one by one they're shielded until she's within his reach once more. When her back hits the wardrobe, there's nowhere else to go. He doesn't need magic to make his point. Instead, a hand crushes her throat before he slams her into the wardrobe, cupboard handles jamming painfully into her back as she lets out a choked cry.

" _SO YOU WANT TO KILL ME?"_   he bellows, hardly phased by the kicking and hitting as Leta tries to fight back. His grip is far stronger than she, easily proven no matter how hard she tries to break his grip on her neck. "You little bitch! Haven't you taken enough from me?! My wife! My son!  _My heir!_ I'd do right by killing you as well as your mother's  _disgusting family_ so our name can finally carry on---"

His glare seems to dissipate slightly at her reaction when he mentions the Kamas. Somehow, she manages a sadistic smile, a strained laugh squeezing through her constrained throat. " _But they can't kill him_ ," she wheezes tears leaking down her cheeks. The revelation only earns her a glare, suggesting she speaks  _nonsense_ until she continues. "They can't kill Corvus... Because  _I already have..._ "

Anger falters, but only for a split second before turning into something beyond rage. Hand squeezes harder around Leta's neck as he slams her back agaisnt the wardrobe  _thrice_ more. "I did not raise you to  _lie!"_ he shouts, only releasing his grip on her when he launches her into the nearby desk.

Quills, parchment, and ink pots are strewn across the floor as she slides over the wooden surface, attempting and failing to catch herself before she lands on the ground below. Still, she wears an expression of sinister satisfaction as she gasps for air. "I took away the one thing you ever loved!" she cackles. "Admit it, you never cared for me!"

"You daft little prick! To love is to be  _vulnerable_ ," he cusses, wand pointed at her threateningly. "I never loved you because you needed thicker skin!"

"You never loved me because you're  _incapable!"_ she cries. "Or so I  _thought_ you were... But you loved Corvus  _so much_ , you were determined to make him just as  _wicked_ as you!"

"Do you think I'd have ever gotten this far if I had been shown something so  _weak_ as  _love?"_  the man spits.

Both can only stare at each other for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. But what can possibly be said to mend twenty-four years of heartache? A dark realization sets in as Leta stares up at her father in disbelief. He has never been loved. Not even by his own daughter. How could she have missed that? It explains so much, yet leaves her with so many more questions. Slowly, she rises to her knees, reaching out for her father like a child.

_"Papa_..."  she croaks.

Their eyes meet, and for the first time ever, she almost thinks he might  _care_ for her. It only lasts a second. Before he can take her hand, his eyes widen, hand claps to his chest as he stumbles forward, reaching to steady himself on the desk.

" _Papa!"_ Leta cries, moving quickly to help him.

Corvus gasps desperately for air, finally clutching her hand in his as if clinging to his last source of life. It happens quickly. Within a minute, he lies limp in his daughters arms, empty eyes showing no evidence that they had ever loved her for a second. All she can do is stare. Not ten minutes ago, she had thought him a monster... It's impossible now to look at him, so harmless, so  _frail_ , and think of him as anything but  **HUMAN.** It takes a few minutes for her to fully realize what had just happened. Tears begin to fall, tears she feels he is so  _undeserving_ of, tears she  _loathes_ herself for shedding, but she can't stop them from coming. Sobs shake her to her core, and she shoves his body off of her, backing up until she hits the foot of her childhood bed. A cry of horror leaves her chest as she's forced to witness his corpse, laying motionless on the floor of the room she had grown up in. The room she would  _hide_ in for  _hours_ to avoid him. Even now, he still  **terrifies** her.

It's another hour before she's found. A loud bang comes from the front door downstairs. She can hear Aurors calling out to her, hear their hurried footsteps pounding on the floors and staircase, hear them shouting that each room is clear until they reach the small bedroom at the end of the hall. Inside, she sits unmoved, hugging her knees to her chest as she rocks back and forth, eyes glued to the image of her deceased father.

"She's in here!" calls one man, who watches her with a mixture of pity and fear. "It's safe."

Several more feet carry themselves into the room, each one shocked at the sight before them. None but one dare to approach her, and the one who is brave enough to do so approaches with such caution and gentleness you would think he were approaching a wounded bird.

"Come on, Leta," murmurs Theseus, reaching out to her with his jacket in outstretched hands. She doesn't move, only stares numbly ahead as he wraps the jacket securely around her shoulders. It's not until he scoops her up into his arms that she realizes just how much her body aches from the fight, a pained cry leaving her lips. The older wizard hushes her, holding her close against his chest. "You're safe now... Let's get you home."


	6. A Rude Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I just want to take a moment to thank everybody for reading and commenting on my work so far! This fic has been such a joy to write, and your feedback and kind words mean have made me feel so happy and excited to write more for you all! Sorry I haven't gotten to post this chapter sooner--- I meant to post it Friday night, but sadly, I lost progress when my computer shut down and had to work all Saturday. I really hope you enjoy this next chapter! <3

The hospital room is freezing. It’s the first thing Newt notices when he enters. The next thing he notices is his brother, sat reading quietly in a chair opposite the bed. Eyes train to bed, and then he notices _her_. Leta, curled up under two hospital blankets, a third folded over her feet to keep them warm. Worried expression softens as he approaches her, fingers reaching out to brush through her hair before Theseus looks up.

“You’ll startle her,” he warns quietly. Setting his book aside, he rises to his feet, nodding toward the door. “We should talk.”

After another glance toward the sleeping witch, Newt reluctantly follows, ducking out of the room with his brother. “What happened to her? Who did this?” he demands, voice firm.

Theseus shushes him. “She was sent to a rally,” he explains. “Her father took her home… They fought. He passed.”

“A ra--- A _rally?”_ Eyes widen in a mixture of shock and fury. “How could you let that happen, Theseus?!”

“It wasn’t me,” he interjects. A hand rubs over his face, wondering just how he’s supposed to explain this to Newt without him stressing out so much. “It was Norrington, and he did it without authorization. They’ve resigned him from his position as Head Auror, and an investigation is going on to figure out why and how this was allowed to happen.”

Newt’s stomach flips. He can’t help but blame himself, wondering what might have happened if he had managed to convince her to stay. If he had, perhaps all of this could have been avoided. No, he can’t think like this. Leta is safe and in good hands. This is a win.

“So, how bad is it?” he asks hesitantly.

Theseus frowns. “Some bruising. Two broken ribs, we think she hit the desk quite hard. Lestrange’s wand showed that he cast the Cruciatus Curse, and judging from her injuries, they say it must have hit her.”

“And you said he’s dead?” Newt clarifies. A part of him wants to throw his fists in the air, celebrate the death of such a **monster** … but in the end, he’s still Leta’s father. He can’t imagine how she must feel. “How?”

“Heart attack, officially…” Theseus’ expression tenses, hesitation nearly keeping him from uttering the next sentence. “They took her wand, too.”

Newt’s brows furrow. “Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know who found it and why they decided to look into it, but they found… Well, they found one of the last spells she cast was the Killing Curse. The others were offensive spells.”

“What?”

“The Wizengamot want to put her on trial---”

“But he died of a _heart attack---_ ”

“But she still cast it, Newt,” Theseus sighs. A long pause lingers between them. “She can plead innocent on the grounds that it didn’t hit him and she did it in self-defense, but… it’s not looking good for her.”

“No,” Newt snaps, turning away to pace the corridor. “No, they can’t do that. It was clearly self-defense.”

“They’ve subpoenaed both of their wands, Newt,” Theseus frowns, hands slipping into deep suit pockets. “The last spells Lestrange cast were a few counter spells. He never tried to kill her.”

Newt shakes his head. “No. He was a _terrible man_. Surely they can’t sentence her for defending herself.”

“They can, and they will if they see it fit.”

The two only stare at each other, eyes filled with worry and sorrow. After a moment of silence, Newt is the first to speak.

“What can I do to help her?”

Theseus hesitates. “Not much,” he begins, leaning back against the wall. “We just need to make sure her story is perfect. That there are no holes, that she can remember every single detail… They won’t go easy on her.”

“Because she’s a _Lestrange_ ,” Newt scoffs. No matter how many times he hears it, the prejudice the Wizarding Community has against his best friend--- his _girlfriend_ \--- will never cease to infuriate him. “This is ridiculous.”

“It is what it is,” Theseus silences him, pushing off of the wall to walk back toward the hospital room. “She’ll likely be waking up soon. You should be there for her.”

Newt simply nods, lips pursed in thought until he finally follows suit. If he can’t do anything in the moment to help with her trial, he’ll at least be there to comfort Leta when she wakes.

 

* 

 

Chenault slips into the office silently, face riddled with concern following the incident. With Norrington having lost his job, she’s beyond lucky she had gotten away with a stern questioning. As far as Travers knows, she had nothing to do with this. As for herself, she’s gotten away with her reputation in-tact and Corvus Lestrange dead. Just as she wanted.

Norrington looks up as she closes the door behind her, gaze settling on the woman with filled with malice. “You bloody _traitor_ ,” he growls, slamming a box filled with his personal items onto what used to be his desk. “I ought to tell Travers just how wicked you are!”

She shushes the man, sinister smile on her lips as she approaches. “And why would they believe _you_?” she questions. “You’ve tricked young Lestrange into nearly getting herself _killed_. And my soon-to-be-fiancé will be taking your position as Head Auror. I came in here to stop you, isn’t that so?”

“Why, you little bitch!” The wizard makes to raise his wand, but quickly decides against it. He’s in enough trouble as it is, and with two Aurors waiting outside of the office to escort him to the holding cells while he awaits trial, attacking the girl is certainly unwise.

The reaction only brings a smirk to her lips. “Not to mention, Lestrange has no idea I had anything to do with it. She’ll be testifying against _you_ , not me.”

“But didn’t you hear?” Norrington scoffs. “Leta Lestrange is already on trial. For _murder---_ ”

“And who do you think put her there?!”

The ex-Auror pauses, looking at her incredulously. “Corvus Lestrange is already dead. Why go after Leta, too?”

“Don’t you understand?” Chenault huffs, arms folding over her chest defensively. “Corvus Lestrange took _everything_ from me. From my _family_. I’m only ending the Lestranges before they hurt anybody else.”

“That was Corvus Lestrange! Leta Lestrange is only a _girl!_ ” he argues.

“And so was I!” Nose scrunches up as though anticipating tears, but she forces them back. No, she won’t be weak. Not this time. “He killed my family! He took my mother without a care, couldn’t even spare my father as he did for the bloody _Kamas_! How is that _fair_? Why should I spare _her?!”_

Norrington only shakes his head, watching her with a grave expression. “You are an evil thing,” he says quietly, disbelieving. “This little revenge mission you’re on? It’s not bound to end well. If you have any desire to live a good life, I’d quit while you’re ahead.”

The warning earns him nothing but a cocky laugh. “Thank you for the concern, but everything will work out in the end. As for you… Good luck with your trial.”

With that, she turns to leave, Norrington left to pack the rest of his belongings alone.

 

*

 

Leta wakes to the sound of snoring. Rubbing fatigue out of her eyes, she blinks them open to reveal Newt’s head rested against her pillow, slumped over the side of her bed from his chair. The sight brings a soft smile to her lips. For a moment, she almost forgets the horror she’d just been through. A hand reaches out, fingers brushing gently through his hair, and he snaps awake. It takes a second for his eyes to find focus.

“Leta,” he whispers, sitting up in an instant. “Leta, how are you feeling?”

She takes a deep breath, lets it go as she tries to push herself into a sitting position. It’s the first time she’s moved, and she feels surprisingly okay despite some stiffness. Then again, she’s probably been all healed by now. “I’m alright,” she murmurs.

Newt takes her hand, lips pressing against the back a couple times in relief. “I was so worried…”

“Worrying means you suffer twice.” There’s a proud, despite small, smile on her lips. “Is that not your philosophy?”

He can’t help but laugh a bit. The fact that she remembers it is enough to lift his spirits even if only slightly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

She gives his hand a comforting squeeze. “What did I miss while I was out?”

Newt frowns suddenly, stomach turning at the thought of how she might react. Watching her father die was bad enough… How can this make her feel any better? “It’s… Well, there’s something you need to know…”

Eyes narrow, concern causing an ache in her chest. “What is it?”

It’s Theseus who speaks up then, causing their heads to snap in his direction. He had been reading so quietly that Newt had forgotten he was even there. “They’re putting you on trial.”

Leta’s heart stops altogether at the revelation, eyes wide with fear. “ _What?”_

Newt hesitates. “They… They’ve subpoenaed your wand… They saw that you cast the Killing Curse…”

“But we can probably get you off on grounds that it was self-defense---” Theseus interjects.

Leta shakes her head. “It _wasn’t_ though,” she argues.

The men pause, and Theseus is the next to speak. “What do you mean, it wasn’t?”

“He was walking away. I cast it when he was done fighting.” She can’t help but scoff at the thought. Of course, even now that she’s finally free of him, he’s ruining her life. How fitting is that? “I tried to kill him. Simple as that. But I didn’t kill him--- He blocked it, and died after the fact. Did they say how he died?”

“Heart attack,” Newt answers, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “Can’t you just tell them it was self-defense? They’re surely believe you, won’t they?”

Theseus heaves a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. “Not if they decide to call her to a pensieve.”

The three of them look between each other, all at a loss for words. At this point, it’ll be a miracle if Leta isn’t sent to Azkaban. In fact, she’ll consider herself lucky if she’s sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss.

After a long moment of silence, Theseus speaks again. “Your story needs to be air tight. It’s the only way they’ll even consider dismissing the charges,” he states, rising from his seat across the room to stand at Newt’s side. “You need to tell me everything that happened.”

Leta hesitates, looking at Newt for a second as though to ask if it’s okay. Newt gives her an encouraging nod, and she turns back to Theseus. “He brought me back to the Manor when you all arrived at the rally. He accused me of summoning you there, threw me around a bit… _Tortured_ me… Threw me around a bit more, and we got into a shouting match… Then he just froze. He clutched his chest and just _collapsed_. I don’t know what else to say.”

Her hands are shaking, chest tight with anxiety. If it weren’t for Newt at her side, she fears she may have tried to leave by now. Instead, she closes her eyes, allows Newt to move up onto the side of her bed, press a gentle kiss to her forehead. For once, she welcomes the comfort.

“You’ve done well,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around her small frame. “We can talk about this later, if you want.”

Theseus nods. “They’ll want more detail than that, that’s for certain… I’ll let you rest for now. You’ve been through a lot today. We’ll worry about Norrington’s trial tomorrow.”

Leta looks up at him wearing a puzzled expression. “Norrington’s trial?”

“Yes,” he confirms. “He’s lost his job. He’s being charged with endangering civilian life and possibly attempted murder. They’ll be asking you to testify… And I truly think you should. It could really help your case.”

Gaze is cast downward, settling on her hands as they cling to the hospital blankets. “Alright, then,” she mumbles, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

Theseus reaches over, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “Get some rest. Everything will work itself out.”

A hint of a lazy smile tugs at one corner of her lips, and she leans into Newt. As Theseus turns to leave, she speaks up. “Theseus?”

“Yes, Leta?” he responds, turning to look at her from the doorway.

A pause. “Thank you… And it’s still Lestrange to you.”

He laughs, shoving hands into his pockets. “Get well soon, Lestrange.”


	7. The Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you again for the tremendous outpoor of feedback and support I've received in the last few days since beginning this fic! I take the time to read every single comment, and each one is a huge motivator! In regards to chapter releases, I would like to let you all know that I am working full-time at the moment, but I plan on having a new chapter released at least every couple of days to keep new content coming for you guys! Thank you all so much for taking the time to read my work, and I really hope you enjoy this next chapter of our story. <3

It's less than a couple of hours before Leta is released from the hospital. Sadly, there's still the matter of losing her wand to the High Court, but it'll only be for a day. Tomorrow, she'll go to trial. If things go well, she'll be returned her wand and allowed to go about her life as usual. If it weren't for Newt standing by her side through it all, she's sure she'd have lost her wits by now. Soon, they're stepping through the fireplace back into Leta's living room.  _Home sweet home._  Oddly enough, she's able to relax a bit despite the trouble that awaits her in the morning. The first place she goes to is the sun room. Her plants will surely need watering, and since Newt is with her, he'll be able to handle any of their magical needs.

"D’you mind helping me with the mandrakes?” she asks Newt, handing him a pair of noise-cancelling ear muffs as they enter the room.

Newt seems almost _too_ excited as he takes them, an expression which she takes as a _yes_. “How are they coming along? All grown yet?” he asks eagerly.

Leta chuckles. “Almost. They’re getting there.”

As they draw close to a garden box filled with growing stalks of leaves, Leta pulls on a smock and a pair of gloves; it’s slightly disappointing without magic, but she’ll make do. Suddenly, as though Newt can read her mind, four planting pots dance their way over to them, filled halfway with soil. She looks up at him with a surprised smile at that, glad she didn’t have to carry them all over herself.

“ _Thank you_.”

When everything is in place, she gives Newt a final nod, allowing him to put on his ear muffs before grasping a bunch of greens and yanking them upward. With a deafening shriek, the mandrake is removed from the soil. After a moment of observation, Leta finally plunks it down into the pot, Newt following suit with the next plant.

A part of Newt keeps nagging at him, telling him that they’d best start preparing Leta for the trial tomorrow before it’s too late. Perhaps this may be a good distraction, but he still can’t help but feel _afraid_ that if things don’t go flawlessly, he may never see her again. It’s not long before they’re done repotting, thankfully, and as soon as they take off their ear muffs, he speaks again.

“Listen, Leta, about the trial---”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” she interjects, avoiding his eyes. Frown on her lips, she works instead at raking through the soil in the garden box, aerating it and adding new soil in. It proves to be a tad more _labour-intensive_ without magic to take care of it. “Whatever happens will happen. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

Newt can’t help but feel a pang of _anger_ at that. “Why, we absolutely _cannot_ ,” he argues. “Leta, I’m not letting you get yourself thrown into Azkaban.”

She scoffs. “I’ve already _gotten_ myself thrown into Azkaban! Can’t you see, Newt?! They _want_ me there, and they’re going to make sure it happens. There’s no use in fighting against a biased jury.”

“Don’t say that,” Newt snaps. “Don’t you dare say that. You’ll never know until you face them, and I am _not_ letting you give up so easily. Is that understood?”

“I just don’t know what you want me to do!” she cries, rubbing a hand over her face. “I know you and Theseus want me to tell them some _perfect story_ , to tell them that I acted in self-defense, but I _didn’t_. Nothing is going to change that, and I can’t just lie my way out of trouble. I’m not that kind of person anymore, Newt.”

He exhales a long breath, pausing a moment before ripping gloves off of his hands. “I’m not asking you to lie. I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m just asking you to _try_ , okay?”

Leta opens her mouth to argue, but he’s storming out of the room before she can. What is she supposed to say to that, anyway? That he’s _right?_ Of course, he is, but how can she possibly convince a jury full of witches and wizards who hate her to let her get away with casting an Unforgivable Curse? She takes a few minutes, allowing herself to find composure, clear her thoughts before she finally follows him out. She finds him sat on the couch in her living room, and after a moment’s hesitation, she sits on the far end.

After a beat of silence, she speaks. “Will you help me?”

The look of _hope_ in Newt’s eyes is all the encouragement she needs.

 

*

 

Despite the trial being only a few hours away, Leta wakes feeling ultimately serene as Newt runs his fingers through her hair. Even in the worst of times, he has a spell on her that keeps her incredibly at ease. A golden stripe of sunlight shine through the crack between curtains, temporarily blinding her until he pulls the cover over them both, pressing gentle kisses along the back of her shoulder. It’s a moment she never wants to end, and the thought of having to get up and face the potential of spending the rest of her life in prison is soul-crushing. Heaving a quiet sigh, she rolls over to face her lover, pulling him in for a longing kiss. Lips linger perhaps too long before he finally pulls back, arm slipping around her waist.

“I wish we could stay like this,” she whispers, ducking her head to hide away in the crook of his neck.

He exhales a soft laugh, pressing a kiss atop her head. “So do I,” he murmurs. “But we’ve got a trial to win. I suppose we should get ready for that then, yeah?”

After much reluctance, the two force themselves out of bed. It takes them longer than usual to get ready this morning. It feels surreal, somehow, as though this may be the last morning they spend like this. Melancholy lingers in the air, but Newt does his best to lighten the mood, stealing kisses here and there, cooking breakfast, asking what she’d like him to make for dinner _when_ they come home… It feels like tonight is an eternity away.

By the time they reach the Ministry of Magic, Leta’s nerves are in full-swing. While she may have found the determination to fight for her freedom, she can’t deny the overwhelming feeling of _defeat_ when she looks around to find so many people _glaring_ at her… Until somebody flashes her a **SMILE**. No, that can’t be right… But then in passing, another stranger pats her on the shoulder, _praises_ her for her bravery in killing her evil father… Newt only hugs her closer to him, kindly asking those who approach to allow her some space as they head toward the court rooms.

Theseus meets them down there, looking as though he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Unsurprisingly, Chenault is stood at his side. It looks as though they had just been arguing, but Leta decides not to comment.

“Lestrange,” he greets her, coming to meet the pair halfway. He comes to a halt quickly, stopping them before they go any further. “Listen, before we go in there---”

“ _I know_ ,” Leta interrupts, taking a deep breath. “My story must be perfect. I acted in self-defense. And I’ll have you know, I’m terribly _pretty_ when I cry, so if all else fails…” The sentence trails off, but leaves Theseus shaking his head in amusement.

“Well, hopefully it won’t get that far,” he smiles, gesturing for the two to follow as he leads them down the hallway. As he turns back, he notices the two hand-in-hand, and his smile turns to a smirk. “So you’re finally _smitten_.”

Newt’s face reddens somewhat, but he can’t help but grin sheepishly. “Shut up, Theseus,” he responds.

Theseus can’t help but laugh. “Well, you’ll both have to join Chenault and I on a double date, won’t you?”

“ _Absolutely not_ ,” Leta and Newt reply in unison. The pair snort at the coincidence.

Chenault, on the other hand, seems only to take minor offense as she approaches the group, snatching up Theseus’ arm in hers. “Terribly sorry for all you’ve been through, Lestrange,” she speaks up, though her voice doesn’t sound sincere in the slightest. “I can’t believe Norrington would put you up to something like this.”

Leta’s expression falters, stomach turning at the thought. As if her _own_ trial hadn’t caused her enough stress. “Thanks,” she mutters, but doesn’t say anything more than that.

The group comes to a stop before the court room entrance. Leta’s gut is in flips, and yet she feels a strange sense of _determination_ at the same time. Perhaps this is exactly what she needs. Before she can turn to open the door, Newt takes her shoulders, bringing her in for one last, _deep_ kiss.

“I love you, Leta,” he breathes when they pull apart. His eyes pour into hers, wanting nothing more than to whisk her away from this cruel place. “Everything is going to be alright.”

She forces a weak smile at his words. “I love you, too.” It’s all she can manage before Theseus clears his throat.

“Not to ruin the moment, but it’d look quite horrible on you to be late for your own trial.”

Leta takes a deep breath, giving Newt’s hand one last squeeze before she’s urged through the doors. Inside, there are easily fifty or sixty witches and wizards, the High Court sat together at the front of the room with the Wizengamot jury adjacent to them. In the center of the room, a single chair meant for the defendant. She finds herself sat in it with reluctance, a cold breeze coming from above… Right, the _Dementors_.

Within minutes, everybody is sat down, and the clank of a wooden mallet silences the court room. As the judge announces the commencement of the trial, Leta finds herself in a numb daze, no matter how hard she tries to concentrate. It’s only when the judge speaks directly to her that she’s pulled back into reality.

“ _Miss Lestrange_ ,” she repeats, tone dissatisfied. “Can you confirm that the wand brought to the stand as evidence, _this wand_ ,” One floats before the court room for all to see. “is, in fact, your wand?”

Leta looks up at the wand in question, swallowing back the lump in her throat before she speaks. “Yes, it is, Your Honour.”

The judge continues. “And, can you confirm that as per your spell history, you cast the Killing Curse but yesterday afternoon?”

Hesitation crosses her features. “Yes, I did.” Her voice is stale, near hopeless, but she knows she can’t lose hope now. After another breath, eyes hold onto the High Court.

“So you don’t deny that you cast the Killing Curse.” There’s a long pause as the judge shuffles through papers, peering at information over half-moon glasses that are just barely too small for her face. As anticipation grows, she speaks again. “According to evidence, Corvus Lestrange Sr., your father, died _after_ the spell was cast by a heart attack. Is this correct?”

“Yes, Your Honour.”

Another pause, followed by an interested hum as the judge reads over evidence once more. Unexpectedly, she sets the files down. “Miss Lestrange, your father’s records are _surprisingly_ clean… But they aren’t perfect. I can see numerous counts of violence. It is well-known that he committed treason in Senegal when taking Laurena Kama as his wife, a case over which we had no jurisdiction. He’s had numerous outbursts, and from what I can tell, was a firm supporter of Grindelwald…”

Gaze is cast downward as the judge goes on, listening far too many horrors. Leta doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to be reminded of all the bad her father has done. All the ways he’s _hurt_ her. It tears her apart.

“… Your record, on the other hand, is quite clean.”

Eyes snap up at the comment. _What?_

“If it were up to me, I would like to dismiss this case as an act of self-defense, evidence being that Corvus Lestrange’s last spells appeared to consist of numerous offensive spells, including the Cruciatus Curse,” explains the judge, but she still wears a stern expression. “But it’s not up to me. It is up to the Wizengamot whether or not you will be charged. Should they see fit, the case may be dismissed. However, I cannot sway their decision.”

The court room is silent, filled only with the gentle sound of breathing. Leta almost can’t wrap her head around the situation, heart finally filled with _belief_ that she’s really going to go home tonight. The Court instructs the Wizengamot to make their decision, and it doesn’t take long. When their answer is finally ready, Leta’s heart is pounding in her chest, breathing quick as she watches them. An older wizard rises to his feet, in plum-coloured robes that are somehow even more extravagant than those of his peers, and a beard that hangs over the railing before him.

“The Wizengamot has come to a decision,” he states, voice strong. “In a ruling voted twenty-seven to twenty-six, the Wizengamot finds the defendant **GUILTY** on all charges.”


End file.
